


Et si tu n'existais pas Dis-moi pourquoi j'existerais? (And if you didnt existed, tell me how I would exist)

by Lightofonesoul



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Granada Holmes, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Romance, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock is jealous, The Sign of Four, Victorian Johnlock - Freeform, after mary comes, jeremy brett - Freeform, john is so patience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightofonesoul/pseuds/Lightofonesoul
Summary: Because logic doesn't explain everything..."I smoke my cigar I try to think on how to solve the elaborate enigma that is Sherlock Holmes..."





	Et si tu n'existais pas Dis-moi pourquoi j'existerais? (And if you didnt existed, tell me how I would exist)

_When a saw this ep,_ i _just will be writing something about it because that's inspired me a lot :D_

 _Sherlock is not jealous of[Mary ](http://lightofonesoul.tumblr.com/post/169325093557/this-is-a-summary-of-the-sign-of-four) not at all XD after this _ _and[this!](http://lightofonesoul.tumblr.com/post/171181134792/this-scene-between-mary-morstan-and-john-watson)!  this i_ _wander why he doesn't follow her? In my opinion, it's clear XD_

  
_so_ i _want to do this fanfiction and_ i _want to show how much John loves him like he loves him back, so here is it._

  
_I want to say a big thank you to my beta Impossible element (you're precious)_

**_Italian version:[here](https://efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=3748978)_ **

* * *

 

 

 

That morning isn’t a good day for my Sherlock. Even if it is also an unusually clear day, sun shinning in the London streets and people are very much happier, he is not.

And it certainly is not anything new that the great detective follows his own personal flow of thoughts and nothing is able to change it, not a good day and sometimes not even me, even if I try my best to help him.

This started at night, Morfeo’s arms failed to take him, and failed with me too; because Sherlock Holmes played his violin at impossible hours. I didn’t wish to upset him more, —I can tell he is very stressed out by the music he has been playing— I tried to be

calm, I armed myself with patience and didn’t say a word.

I know very well there are moments such as this, and I also know how I must react.

I don’t say anything now either, when I find him still there, in front of the window in his beige nightgown and playing violin. His tall, slim figure makes a shadow against the sun as if he wished to dull out the day with his mood.

The melody he plays is, in fact, sad and filled with complex emotions, and I think I recognise it, an Andante by Mozart, I believe.

I ask myself what happened, because when he plays melodies such as this is usually for a case; one of his thinking methods, aside from smoking his pipe.

However, we don’t have a case, or at least I don’t believe we do.

I don’t intend to ask about it, since he’s so nervous and would probably not answer me; so I eat my breakfast in silence, often stealing a glance at him. I am not able to stay with him today as I want because I have work, and after, I must go see Mis Mortsan,

because how could I decline the invite of a woman so delicate?

In any way, I feel the beating of guilt wrap around my stomach and I cannot finish my breakfast, so I get up. We are alone and in these moments of intimacy, I can show my affections for him and even call him by his given name. I want him so much this morning, but I also know he doesn’t want it too, so I sigh resigned and caress his back with my gaze.

 «Eat something before I come back, alright darling?»

He doesn’t reply, as I had imagined, and with a much oppressive sense of guilt I leave the flat. I hope when I come back he will listen to me and his mood will have improved, but there is a big possibility that it won’t. As I go my way down the stairs, I hear his melody turn into a dark and irritated tone, I sigh and hope to find my Sherlock in a different and positive condition.

 

I get angry, I’m not surprised to find him in his armchair, where I suppose he stayed all day without eating a bite.

He is smoking his onyx pipe, the type he uses when he is upset, and he is shrouded by smoke. His head in on his knees and he looks trapped inside a nervous crisis. I sigh and call Mrs. Hudson, we look at each other before I ask her if she could cook a delicacy— honey and toasted almonds— that I know my detective can never resist.

When she is out of the room, I sit myself on my armchair, and while I smoke my cigar I try to think on how to solve the elaborate enigma that is Sherlock Holmes.

I try the obvious.

«New case?»

He grunts, and I know it’s a ‘no’. So I stay in silence and look at his figure, crumbled as if he wanted to hide from the eyes of the world, even from mine. Something bad and nasty wraps around my stomach and I gulp, repressing the urge to vomit. I can’t understand what is inside his genius brain that could make him so quiet and grumpy. Holmes has his ‘peculiar moments’ but usually he allows me to touch him, maybe after some time, but he always did. He would give me a sign that he is once again in the mood for company. But not today.

I’m so distressed that I don’t hear Mrs. Hudson is in the room again, and I jump when she puts the food I requested on the table. I thank her quickly and get up. I sit on the table, and wait for him but when I see that my companion has not moved, I lose my patience.

I can tolerate, and even understand him not being in the mood to speak, even if I worry about it and let anguish bury deeper inside of me, I accept it. But I can’t stand him not eating.

«Sherlock.» I call him in a rare stern tone, and I’m glad to see him obey. Probably he knows that had he failed on doing so, I would have brought him to the table and made him eat myself.

Sherlock stands up, grunts and sits beside me.

While we eat in silence, I lose myself looking at him, and I see how he has put on the mask that he usually wears with strangers, but never with me…

I press my lips and gulp, placing my hand on his, because I want to show him support and solace, but it doesn’t distant him from it, he looks at my hand as if he didn’t recognise it.

My worry heightens, and his frozen and distant eyes hurt me more than his mood does; because it feels like a stab, and I wasn’t expecting it, I wasn’t prepared. But before I can speak my torment, Mrs. Hudson enters the room. It’s nothing new that she sees us in affectionate moments, but I’m quick to draw my hand away from him before she sees it.

She says a client wanted Sherlock Holmes’ attention, and my detective doesn’t reject it. He has eaten something, so I can’t protest, and we prepare to recieve him.

 ____________________

I sigh when I get back from work and from the brief meeting with Miss Mortsan, and find Sherlock in the same ‘rut’ as the day before. I see him in front of the window playing a mournful tune on his violin, it really triggers my emotions, and this is enough.

After spending the night alone again, since my companion continued with his restlessness and did not wish to speak about it, I begin to waver.

And then, I listen to that melody, I feel helpless and worried about him. It makes me decide to talk and get close to him. I close my fists and take a deep breath, ready for every rude or irritated reply that I would be given for my troubles.

«Did you ask her, Watson?» He interrupts me, and puts his violin down under the window. The sadness still encloses him like a dark halo. The fact that he calls me by my surname, despite the fact that we are alone, hurts me and confirms something is really not going well.

I’m worried that our relationship is possibly at a breaking point, but I don’t know why. I don’t remember having done something that explains such fact, or put at risk our love.

Like usual, I don’t understand where his mind is coming from, so I reply with the same frozen tone.

«What are you talking about, Holmes?»

He sighs, but doesn’t look at me, and I can see the tension in his shoulders, for my eyes are used to knowing every expression or movement from him. It’s as if he didn’t have the courage to look into my eyes, and this scares me; a freezing terror inside of my guts.

I desire to turn him around, hug and kiss him so hard, to consume his perfect lips. I want to whisper that everything will be fine, whatever it may be, and together we will find the solution. But I prefer not to move and wait for information from Sherlock Holmes.

«I mean, Miss Morstan, obviously. I know you went to her frequently, so I assume a happy announcement is here, or will be here soon. I understand that every gentleman wishes to be married sooner or later.»

I feel speechless for a couple of minutes, then I correct him.

«Sherlock! How could you think that?» My tone is high and full of emotion.

He thought I was leaving him for her, and I can’t believe that. He has misunderstood why I met with Mis Morstan, and I think it very strange for him to draw the wrong conclusion, yet I know how little he understands the human sentiments.

Hearing him compare me to anyone, makes me feel badly lost, because yes, it’s true, I did not tell him about Lady Mary, but only because I didn’t want to trouble his mind with such an ordinary thing.

The words are suffocating inside my throat, and make me feel so confused I’m not sure I am able to talk.

Sherlock Holmes turns to me, and finally I can look into his eyes, and...oh God: his gaze is a glint of emotions and my heart tightens.

«But you find her attractive. I noticed that and even you said it. It was clear when you followed her figure from the window as she was getting inside the carriage. I asked myself why you did not follow her since she clearly liked you too, so I supposed you would do so in upcoming days.

Do you need more proof?

When we were working her case, you always found ways to be alone with each other, and I satisfied this desires of both of you. I don’t say that to be praised, or demand anything from you, Watson, I’m just exposing the facts.

Miss Morstan’s kind and delicate gestures made you comfort her, and attracted your attention even more. It was clear she wanted you to come see her again, and you did.»

I feel the pain in his words, even if he tries to hide it, he spits these words as if he were on a case for which he doesn’t feel a lot of sympathy.

That pain goes straight to my heart, cold and liquid, like an icy waterfall and it paralyses me for a couple of minutes, only Sherlock Holmes is able to shake me.

«On those days your mood was great and satisfied after you saw her, and only became worried when you saw me. Because of my mood clearly. All of it is logical, and if I have to congratulate you, I will do so without resentment.»

There’s a pinch of jealousy in his tone and I smile, while I get closer to him. I had noticed a little discomfort from him at the presence of Mary Mortsan, but I hadn’t thought about that because he is everything to me.

«She is pretty, that is a fact, even _you_ said it. But, she is not you, no one can be you.»

I look at him in total devotion because the best man I have ever known and that I love most in the earth, has put my happiness before his. I know people think the opposite, but the fact he is willing to sacrifice for my eventual desire to get married, it’s proof, and it makes my heart tighten.

When I get close so I can touch him, I take his hand in mine and kiss it.

«I feel nothing for her and never will, I don’t love her.» I kiss his hand again before I add, «I love you.» And repeat it many times, covering his hand with love.

His gaze softens but I can also see confusion in his expression, a rare thing to see in his beautiful face, and I know he needs to have an explanation, so I give him one.

«Miss Mortsan needed some advice about a place she plans to go, to America. I told her in the past about my few relatives being from there, so she wanted information about it. She wanted to know about the land and people, just so she could got to her future

husband. I went to see her to offer an appropriate farewell.»

She needed help, only that, and how could a gentleman refuse to help a lady?

All the tension in his body goes away with a sigh, the mask falls away from his face and now I see the man I love. Sherlock shakes his head, furious with himself, I know that look very well, like he thought he was an idiot, and I can’t allow that.

«I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, I should have talked to you, but I didn’t think it important to mention because of the mood in which you were, and I never imagined it was because of me…»

He lets go of my hand and does a gesture of dismissal to stop me. After that, he wraps my hip with his arm passionately, the way I like it. He puts his sharp eyes into mine, and they are so shiny and alive with so much sentiment for me that, even if we have demonstrated our love for a long time, it moves me anyway.

«My dear John, I followed the logic and made a mistake, it will never happen again… but emotions dull my reason. That is why I always avoided them and considered them inconvenient and distracting. Before you, I mean.»

I giggle and draw my face closer to his, craving his lips.

«Oh, I’m sorry, my dear Sherlock, for being fond of this.»

«You like it, actually.»

«My ridiculous detective.»

I provoke him again, but he does not answer to that, he prefers to kiss me. With a groan, I embrace him too. And while our lips are united, I think about how lucky I am to have the love of the man I love as well. Too luck to be loved by the astonishing and

irritating creature that is Sherlock Holmes: _my_ Sherlock Holmes.

I smile into his lips at this revelation.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii ^_^ i hope you like it, thank you for your feedback and/or comments


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